A Place In The Family
by RRyanForever
Summary: When Craig's attempts to hide being sick fail, he and Joey are forced to examine how the teen fits into the Jeremiah family.
1. And So It Begins

Takes place following "Tears Are Not Enough". An exploration of the anxieties faced by Craig as he attempts to figure out his place in the Jeremiah family.

* * *

"Craig? Craig!" Joey's voice drifted up the stairs to him, dragging him out of the restless slumber he had finally managed to achieve only minutes earlier.

Forcing himself upright, the teen futily tried to stop the room from spinning. Holding his head with both hands, he desperately attempted to stop the cough from overtaking him. Quickly burying his face in his pillow, he muffled the sound his tormented body wouldn't stop making. He finally managed to achieve a state of stability long enough to reply to his guardian's incessant demands for his attention. "Yeah, Joey?"

"Come down here, Craig." Joey's voice once again drifted up to him, making the one request the teen had desperately hoped to avoid having to fulfill.

Pulling himself to his feet, the boy did his best to compose himself. Taking a quick look at himself in the mirror, he was relieved to see that he didn't look nearly as bad as he was feeling. Briefly rubbing his neck, attempting to get the lingering stiffness out, he finally turned towards the door. Joey probably wouldn't even notice the slightly pink flush in his cheeks. All he had to do was keep himself pulled together in front of the man, and everything would be fine. That, and hold in the persistent, hollow cough that seemed to be consuming him lately.

Dragging himself to the top of the stairs, he took in a deep breath and did his best to act healthy.

* * *

Looking up from his daughter as the teen finally emerged from the second floor, Joey smiled up briefly at the boy before addressing him. "I have a potential client coming in this evening, so I'm gonna be pretty late tonight, Craig. I need you to pick up Ang after school. I left a roast in the freezer for you guys."

When the teen failed to respond, the man once again looked up at him. "Craig?"  
  
"Huh?" The boy answered, trying desperately to keep his body under control as the man temporarily scrutinized him.

Frustrating his guardian to no end. The teen's lack of responsibility was really starting to irritate the man. "This is important, Craig. I need to know you'll look after Ang."  
  
"Sure, Joey." Craig replied. "Pick her up, roast in the freezer. No problem."

"Are you alright?" Joey questioned, noticing the boy's slightly off demeanor.

Mildly panicked, the teen responded quickly. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Meeting the boy's eyes briefly, Joey shook off the feeling that something wasn't quite right. "Hurry up and get around, then. You're going to be late for school."

"Right." Craig replied, turning towards the stairs, grateful for the reprieve.

The man watched him go for a moment, before calling after him. "I'll see you tonight."

"Sure." The boy replied, slipping out of view. "See you later."

Throwing the door shut behind him, he once again buried his head in his pillow as another round of coughs overtook him. Pushing himself up once more, he found himself making two wishes simultaneously. One that Joey had not heard. And two, that the annoying cold would soon be gone.

* * *

Fiddling uselessly with his combination, Craig actually found himself wishing for the day to start soon. As a short round of coughs briefly required his attention, he clutched to his locker for support. At least when class started, he would be able to sit down. Rubbing the back of his neck futily, he once again attempted to focus on the combination.

"Hey, man." Sean's voice quickly pulled his attention away from the combo, however. Looking over at his friend, the teen didn't even bother to attempt a smile.

"I so don't get you." Sean addressed him, immediately taking in his appearance.

"Huh?" Craig stared at him, too tired to even look annoyed.

Providing a half-smirk, Sean spoke up. "You look like crap, man. You have for days now. Why don't you take a day off?"

"Take a day off." Craig scoffed, turning back to his locked. "Right."

"Seriously, Craig. You look awful. Why didn't you stay home?" The dirty blonde questioned.

As his locker finally opened, the teen looked over at his friend, casting him a sideways glance. "Things are tense there, Sean. Joey's been working all the time, the place is a disaster area and Ang is really testy."

"So?" Sean replied, not getting the correlation.

Craig was quick to explain it too him, though. "So Joey's already at his limit, man. It's not exactly the best time to be adding to his problems."  
  
As a fresh wave of coughs nearly crippled his friend, Sean looked over his shoulder to share a confused glance with the obviously eavesdropping Emma.

Taking the exchanged glance as an invitation to join the conversation, the girl boldly walked over and addressed her clearly ill friend. "Craig, Joey has to know you're sick. He's not stupid."

"He's been distracted lately." Craig finally responded, pulling himself together once more as he drug out his text and a binder.

Sean almost laughed at that. "No one can be that distracted. You've sounded like death for, like, the last week."

Shrugging, the taller boy looked down at his concerned friends. "Like I said, things are crazy now."

"So then you better tell him, Craig." Emma piped up once more. "You need to be in bed, at the least."

"Look, guys, I appreciate the concern. I really do. But I told you, I'm not bugging Joey with this." As the bell rang, he found himself glad for the reprieve. "We're gonna be late."

* * *

As the bell rang and the rest of the class made their way out of the room, Snake sighed at the unmoving figure sacked out at his desk. Normally the teacher wouldn't tolerate sleeping in his class. But this was not a normal case. In the face of his prompts for the boy to admit he was under the weather, Craig had flatly denied any discomfort. As the week wore on, it was apparent to everyone around him that the boy wasn't exactly getting any better. Why on earth Joey had continued to let the kid attend classes was beyond him.

He would have to give the salesman a call and see what was going on with him. He knew Joey had been pushed to his limit lately, but this sort of neglect was not something he would have ever expected from his lifelong friend.

That could wait until late, though. Right now, he needed to deal with Craig. Enough was enough. Shaking the boy's shoulder gently, Snake was startled by how quickly the teen jumped.

"What?" Looking around groggily, Craig soon realized where he was. He held in a groan as he looked up at the concerned face of his teacher. "Mr. Simpson, I'm sorry. I guess I didn't get to sleep early enough last night, I promise it won't happen again."  
  
"Come on, Craig." The man demanded, not even acknowledging the obviously fabricated excuse.

Great, all he needed was to get in trouble. And with Mr. Simpson, no less. Joey was going to kill him. He attempted to plead for mercy. "Mr. Simpson, I'm really sorry. I swear I won't sleep in your class again."

"I'm taking you to the nurse, Craig." The teacher told him soothingly, realizing the kid had mistaken his destination for the principal's office.

Unfortunately, however, Craig dreaded that location as much as the one he had assumed he was headed for. "I'm okay, Mr. Simpson. Really I don't need to..."  
  
When the teen's pleas were interrupted by an ill-timed fit of coughs, he knew he wasn't going to win the argument. Regaining his composure once more, he looked up at the teacher. "I can get there myself. Really. You better get back to your next class."

"School's over, Craig." Simpson responded flatly, continuing to guide the reluctant teen through the hallways.

How on earth he had forgotten Simpson was his last class was beyond the boy. But it did give him hope for a reprieve. "I'll just go home, Mr. Simpson."

"Right." Snake replied.

"I've gotta pick up Ang." He told the man desperately.

The teacher wasn't having it, though. "I'll send Emma over to get her."  
  
"You don't have to. Really. I'll be fine. I just need some sleep." Craig once again attempted to escape.  
  
"Uh huh." The man replied appeasingly, pushing the door to the infirmary open. Guiding the teen over to one of the sterile-looking white-sheeted beds, he turned his attention to the nurse looking over at the pair curiously.

* * *

Glancing through the window at the apparently sleeping teen, Snake turned his attention back to the nurse as she once again set down the phone receiver. "Well?"

"I can't get a hold of Mr. Jeremiah. Or his first emergency contact." The nurse told him quietly. "And I'm really not liking how he's looking, Arch. That cough. His high fever. He really ought to get some medical attention."

"So what should we do?" Simpson questioned, once again turning to gaze at the peaceful looking teen.

The nurse smiled slightly at the question. "I contact the second emergency contact. Suggest he take Craig down to the ER."

"Sounds good." The man replied, nodding slightly at the suggestion. Then he looked over at the woman, as she continued to watch him, an unreadable look on her face. "What?"

"Consider yourself contacted." She smiled brightly.

He looked over at her, stunned. "Me?"

"I can show you the contact list if you like." She told him flatly.

"Never mind." The teacher replied, mentally preparing himself for the battle that lay ahead as he made his way over to deal with the slumbering teen.

* * *

Attempting to answer questions about the life history of a kid he barely knew, Snake quickly gave up on the forms and turned his attention to the pouty boy on his left. Slumped down in his chair, the teen was looking sick, tired and angry. Very angry.

Walking down the hallway to the payphone, he once again attempted to get Joey Jeremiah on the line. This was his sick, moody teen to deal with.

* * *

As he sat in the small exam area, wishing desperately for someone else to enter the space and break the tense silence hanging in the air, the man finally decided it was time to attempt a conversation at the least. "So why don't you want to admit you're sick?"

The teen blinked up at the man, startled by the bluntness of the question. So startled, in fact, that he actually answered honestly before he could think better of it. "Bad timing."

"Why?" The teacher pressed, curiosity peeking at the unexpected response.

Craig shrugged sullenly. "Ang's been crappy lately. Needing lots of attention. Things have been busy down at the lot. It's hectic. This isn't what I need to top it off."

"This isn't what you need or what Joey needs?" Simpson pressed, beginning to get a better idea of the problem.

"Both." The teen told him, pausing to let out another round of harrowing coughs. "Things are tense. You can only expect so much charity from one guy."

"Charity?" The man pressed, now more concerned for his friend's faltering family life then ever. "What does you getting sick have to do with charity?"

"Like I said, things are rough." Craig replied, leaning back against the gurney as he spoke. "Paying my way on top of his and Ang's is enough a burden. I was hoping to avoid pushing his limits and making him deal with this."

The man had no idea what to say in response. Fortunately, an orderly's entrance granted him a temporary reprieve.

He might not know what to say to the teen to ease his fears. But he did know who was needed to eliminate those fears all together. As the teen was wheeled away, he once again made his way to the phone, now more determined than ever to get good ol' Jeremiah on the line.


	2. Finding the Culprit

Breathing a sigh of relief, the salesman turned the 'open' sign around for the night. Watching his final buyer for the day drive away happily, he couldn't help but grin at the thought of the day's profits. The way sales were going, Craig and Angie's college tuitions would be paid in full. Looking up at the clock on the wall, his smile faded. At this rate, both kids would be long graduated before he actually got to spend any time with them.

Putzing into the office, he snatched up the phone from the desk, hoping desperately the messages were passive. He certainly didn't have the strength left to deal with anything else today.

* * *

Groaning, Simpson leaned back in the plastic chair, once again futilely attempting to find a comfortable position. Hospital waiting room chairs were not meant to be inhabited for hours at a time. Looking up at the clock, the teacher was once again in awe of how much time had past. It was almost 9 pm and Jeremiah had yet to be found, despite his best efforts to find the wayward salesman. At this point, he wasn't even sure it would be a good thing for the man to show up. He just might murder him at first sight.

Glancing down the hall, Simpson quickly realized that, regardless of whether the timing was good, he was going to have to confront his old friend. Six hours after he had first tried to contact the man, Joey Jeremiah had finally arrived.

* * *

"Snake? What's going on?" Joey demanded, still operating in the panic mode that Simpson's vague messages had sent him into 20 minutes earlier.

Sighing in open relief at the man's much anticipated presence, the teacher couldn't quite keep his frustration at his friend in check. "It's about time. Where the heck have you been? I've been calling you for hours."

"My cell was in my office. What's wrong? What happened? Where're my kids?" The man spouted out at record speed.

Holding up his hands to silence the man, Simpson broke in quickly. "Joey, relax. Angie's taken care of. She's with Spike and Emma. Craig's upstairs. The doctor's seen him. He's going to be fine."  
  
"Well, what happened? How'd he get hurt?" The salesman questioned, slowing his hyper pace slightly at the reassurance that both his kids were, at the least, still alive.

The ridiculous question only served to infuriate his overtired friend. "Hurt? Have you completely lost your mind? He's not hurt, Joe. He's sick."

"Sick?" The man repeated the word skeptically. "Since when?"  
  
"Are you serious? Joey, Craig's been sick for days, at least. How can you not know that? I'm with the kid 40 minutes a day, and it's more than obvious. He lives with you for God's sake." Simpson told him bluntly, completely amazed at how out of touch his old friend had become.

"He's seemed fine." The man defended, racking his mind as he attempted to recall any odd interactions with the teen over the past few days that might have indicated a problem. He couldn't think of any. Then again, he couldn't think of many interactions, period.

As his friend looked over at him, Simpson stared back in awe. "Flushed cheeks? Red eyes? That awful cough? None of this caught your attention?"

"Things have been hectic." The man attempted to defend himself. "I've been distracted. I can't believe he didn't say anything."  
  
"I can." Snake told him flatly, earning himself an angry look from the salesman.

Joey was not exactly amused by what his so-called friend was suggesting. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He demanded.

The teacher wasn't intimidated by the tone, however. Craig's hoarse voice, telling him "You can only expect so much charity from one guy", had made a much more lasting impression on the teacher than his friend's indignation. He had a point to make. And, by God, he was going to make it. He owed that much to Craig. And to Joey for that matter. Someone had to try and help the struggling little family find its way back together.


	3. Getting the Point

"Craig's running scared, Joey. And, frankly, I can't believe you let it happen." Snake told him coolly, adrenaline still coursing through him at the thought of what the kid was going through.

The teacher wasn't the only one whose adrenaline was still pumping, though. "What did I let happen? What are you talking about?"

"Do you know why Craig didn't let you know he was sick? Huh?" Simpson demanded, the anger still pumping strong.

Joey looked back at him, expectantly. He found himself practically hissing at the man. "Why don't you tell me, Archie? Clearly, you know Craig much better than I do. Enlighten me."

"He doesn't want to be any more of a burden on you than he already is." The teacher told him steadily, meeting his friend's eyes as he carefully annunciated each word.

Joey flinched as the statement hit him. Looking back at the other man, his next question came out in a much less hostile tone. "He said that?"

"When I asked him why he didn't want to admit he was sick, he told me he didn't want to be any more of a burden on you. That letting him live with you is enough charity to expect from one guy." Simpson summed up the teen's beliefs quietly.

"That isn't. He isn't." Joey's voice trailed off as the guilt swarmed through him.

Archie wasn't totally done making his point, though. "He's 14, Joey. His parents are dead. He's in a new house, at a new school. He's got more than enough to worry about in his own life. He shouldn't feel like he has to make your life easier every time things get hectic at your job or Angie's being difficult. He's not the parent."

Joey responded slowly, rubbing at his face at he spoke. "Archie?"

"Yeah?" The teacher replied gently, relieved that his words had apparently sunk in.

Joey met his eye. "Where's my kid?"

* * *

Silently pushing back the divider curtains, Joey looked down at the bed expectantly. In retrospect, he wasn't sure what he had expected. But what he saw was definitely not it. Sleeping fitfully, Craig's breathing was raspy and his color bad. Not to mention the machines attached to the boy.

The salesman was immediately glad the boy was asleep. There was no way he would have been able to hide how startled he was at the sight before him. Wordlessly, he backed out of the area.

He could kick himself for not questioning Snake further on what was wrong with Craig. He had just taken it for granted that whatever was wrong couldn't be that serious. After all, he surely would have noticed something major. Clearly, he had been mistaken. There were tubes running through his teenager. He wanted some answers, and he wanted them now.

* * *

Stepping into the small room to wait for the boy's arrival, the man mentally prepared himself to greet his stepson. He was ready for this.

After finally hunting down Craig's physician, he was in the loop. He knew what was wrong, how the boy was being treated and when he should be released. Hopefully, that was more than the teen himself had managed to find out.

He needed to show the boy that he could get this under control. That he had the answers.

He's an adult. He's competent. He can take care of this. He can take care of Craig.

As the bed is slowly wheeled into the room, the salesman hops to his feet, silently praying that he is more successful at convincing Craig of his competence than he is at convincing himself.


	4. Unspoken Words

Lying back against the sterile comfort of the gurney, Craig didn't even bother opening his eyes as the movement of the bed stopped. He knew exactly where he was. The hospital. At this point, what else really mattered?

He thought he was lonely and miserable when he had first trudged his way into the hospital with Mr. Simpson. He had no idea how much worse things could get.

After stoically enduring an evening of poking, prodding and testing by various strangers, tubes and needles being shoved in him with no warning and absolutely no explanations provided about what, on God's green earth, could possibly be wrong with him, Craig had long since given up on trying to prepare himself for what was coming next. He was way beyond feeling lonely and miserable by this point.

Abandoned and broken.

Those were much better descriptors.

Even as the orderlies attempted to aid his transfer into his permanent bed, the teen barely acknowledged the transition. It was nearly a full minute after he heard his most recent tormentors depart that he finally began to allow his guard to lower slightly. At least he had a temporary reprieve.

* * *

Standing back silently, Joey watched the scene before him in a state of wonderment. It wasn't that Craig was a normally jumpy boy. It wasn't that at it. It just didn't seem normal for him to allow himself to be moved around by two burly strangers without so much as a peep. Especially when the teen was obviously wide-awake.

Oh, sure. His eyes were closed. And he wasn't making any audible protestations. But that was the point. The tense posture and carefully regulated breathing made it glaringly obvious that the boy was not out of for the count. Obvious to someone studying his every move, that is.

Nodding his thanks to the departing orderlies, Joey found himself alone with the rundown child. Waiting patently for the teen to open his eyes, the salesman began to realize that he could be waiting a very long time.

Not that he didn't have the time to wait. He had no intention of leaving any time soon. But as he found his gaze shifting from the teen's tense face, to the oxygen running to his nose and to the needles running through his hand, he knew that allowing the teen to believe he was alone in his misery any longer would be cruel. Callous. Criminal.

Silently closing the distance between himself and his stepson, Joey found himself desperately trying to decide where to begin. Taking in a deep breath, he waited for some brilliant greeting to come out of his mouth. Some words befitting of this awkward situation.

Unable to find any, and equally unable to hold in his breath any longer, the man gave up on the idea of finding something fitting to say. Instead, he silently reached out and brushed the teen's curls away from his still-closed eyes.

* * *

Wallowing in his solace, Craig found himself slowly beginning to suspect that he wasn't as alone as he had originally believed. It wasn't logical. There was no unexpected noise. No words. No movement. No cause for the feeling. But he could just feel himself being watch.

As his bangs were gently brushed off his face, the teen was startled. The gentle affection was not what he would expect from any hospital attendant. Curiosity getting the better of him, the teen slowly opened his eyes to take in his visitor.

The sight before him was not what he had been expecting. His heart quickly dropped into his chest, as he realized that the one inevitable confrontation he had been hoping to avoid was standing right in front of him.

Gulping, he addressed the intimidating man. "Hey, Joey."


	5. Starting Out

Leaning over the bed slightly, Joey attempted to muster a smile for the boy. He needed to be reassuring. "Hey, there, kiddo. Long time no see."

"Yeah." The teen drug out the word, allowing it to briefly linger before rambling on. "I'm really sorry, Joey. I never meant to do this."

"Meant to do this?" The man looked down at him, startled by the unexpected apology. "Meant to do what? Get sick?"

"I tried to tell Mr." Craig began to explain, only to be interrupted by an ill-timed fit of coughs. "Mr. Simpson I didn't want this. That I needed to pick up Ang."

"Craig, that isn't" The salesman let the sentence hang; unsure of which of a half-dozen replies would be most appropriate. Should he tell the boy it wasn't his fault? That he shouldn't feel guilty? Or that everything was taken care of? How sorry he was he hadn't taken better care of him?

His stepson's soft, tired voice broke into his contemplations, though. "I'm sorry you had to come out here, Joey. I know you didn't need this now."

Staring, stunned, at the boy, Joey was physically winded as the sickening meaning of his stepson's words consumed him.

"Ang's okay, right? Emma went and got her, didn't she?" Craig questioned hesitantly, following the questions up with yet another bout of coughs.

The display snapped Joey's attention back to the boy. "Your sister's fine, Craig. She's not the one I'm worried about."

Relaxing somewhat at the reassurance, Craig responded calmly. "I'm okay."

"Of course you are. You're going to be fine. That's not what has me worried." His stepfather told him.

The response peaked the teen's curiosity. Pained and exhausted, he expressed that curiosity in the most thought-out and well-formed manner he could muster. "Huh?"

"That you could be this sick without me knowing scares me, Craig." Joey informed him.

"Joey." Craig attempted to protest, somewhat incoherently.

Only to be quickly interrupted. "And that you actually feel guilty because you think you're inconveniencing me is horrifying."

"It's not." The teen once again attempted to break in.

And his protestations were once again interrupted. "Craig, this is not your fault. There is NOTHING that you should feel guilty about. I'm the one who should be apologizing here, not you."

"What did you do to be sorry for?" The boy questioned.

His stepfather actually laughed at the question. He had to. It was either that or cry. And crying was not an option. "For this, Craig. For letting things get so out of control."

"My stress level isn't your problem. It's my job to worry about you, not the other way around." Joey told him firmly.

"You don't have to worry about me, Joey." The teen told him evenly.

The steady tone struck the man more than the words themselves. How could he have been so negligent? How could this boy have become so comfortable with the idea of not being cared for right under his nose? How had he not seen how alone Craig was feeling? The tremendous amount of damage needing undone was becoming clearer with each passing moment.

Settling onto the edge of the bed to his stepson's right, the salesman cautiously leaned his weight onto the hand resting to the left of Craig's arm. The teen's now-apparent feeling of isolation drove the man to instinctually move in closer to him. "You don't get it, do you? You really don't get it."

"Get what?" The teen questioned, not following the conversation in the least.

Joey, though, had finally worked out what he wanted to say and he wasn't stopping now. "Craig, not some unwanted kid I took in. Not some great act of charity. Not even my wife's kid. You're my kid. You've got to understand that."

"But I'm not" Craig stopped, chocked up. Literally. As he battled yet another fit of coughs he found himself wondering what the point was for his being there at all. It wasn't like he was feeling any better. If he had to be in a hospital, with tubes running through him and Joey calling him his kid, he should at least get to feel better. Is that really asking that much?

Leaning back slowly, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the particularly harsh bout to pass, the teen was completely thrown by the hand that landed gently on his chest. Opening his eyes slowly, he stared up at his stepfather in awe.

Meeting the boy's watery eyes, Joey attempted a reassuring smile. "It's all right, Craig. It'll pass soon. We're going to get you feeling better in no time."

"I'm good." The teen replied quietly.

His stepfather ignored the simple response. "Why don't you try and get some sleep, kiddo? We can talk more later."

"You better get Ang." The teen replied, beginning to close his eyes. They had obviously given him something. There was no way he should be this tired.

Joey sighed heavily at the teen's response. When had the boy had gained such a sense of responsibility towards his sister? Watching the boy doze, he realized that trying to talk things out with his stepson wasn't practical. Craig was sick, tired and drugged up. He was going to have to face the fact that this situation wasn't going to be resolved overnight.

Watching another bout of coughs consume the teen, Joey was somewhat relieved to see this display did not bring him to a full state of consciousness. With the medication apparently beginning to take some effect, it wouldn't be too long before Craig would be well enough to have a serious conversation. He would just have to be patient.


	6. Unexpected Company

Moving his hand instinctively to cover his mouth as he coughed, Craig slowly began to realize that he was, in fact, conscious. Not that he was entirely sure when he had become unconscious. Prying his eyes open slowly, he began to suspect that he hadn't only dozed briefly. The place was quieter. And there was significantly less light. Scanning his room slowly, his eyes rested on the form hunched in the corner to his left.

He attempted to process the meaning behind his visitor's presence. As he lay, staring, he was more than a little startled as the man stirred and quickly returned his gaze.

As Joey focused on the obviously awake teen, he quickly shook off the fog from his brief nap and moved to perch himself on the edge of the boy's bed. Meeting his stepson's stare, he quickly greeted the boy with the first thing that came to mind. "There he is."

Giving the man a puzzled look at the strange greeting, Craig replied slowly. "Here I am."

"How're you feeling?" Joey questioned seriously.

Craig, however, dismissed the question as polite conversation. "I'm good."  
  
The response earned him a slight snort in disbelief from his stepfather. That, and an unforeseen hand to his forehead. The teen was not expecting the display. "Joey."

As Craig moved his head away slightly, Joey ignored the hint and left his hand where it was for an extra few seconds. He returned the winy tone. "Craig."

"What time is it?" The boy changed the subject, relieved when his stepfather removed his hands from his face.

Looking over at the wall clock behind Craig's head for confirmation, the man announced the time. "5:15."

"AM?" The boy questioned in disbelief. He had been asleep for hours. So why did it feel like he hadn't had a moment's pause in days?

Joey smiled slightly at the awed tone before providing confirmation. "AM."

"You stayed here all night?" Craig half questioned, half stated the obvious.

His stepfather looked down at him, being sure to keep his tone neutral as he spoke. "Of course I did. I wasn't going to leave you here alone, Craig."

"Who's with Angie?" The big brother immediately wondered aloud.

His stepfather had been expecting that question. "She's with grandma. You've really got to stop worrying about her so much. I've managed to keep her alive this long."

"I know you have, Joey. You're a great dad." The teen told him quickly; afraid he was upsetting the man. Offending him now, as he was sitting in a hospital room because of Craig, was not exactly what the teen wanted to do.

Offended was not the appropriate word to describe the man's emotional state, though. Looking down at the boy seriously, he spoke in a calm, quiet voice. "Apparently, not as great as I thought."

"Huh?" The teen questioned, thoroughly confused.

His stepfather looked down at him seriously. "Obviously I haven't been doing that great a job with you."

"What are you talking about, Joey?" The boy earnestly asked.


	7. Revealing All

"This." Joey replied, sweeping his hand around to indicate their current situation.

Craig gulped subconsciously, dreading the numerous potential directions the conversation could be heading in. "What?"

"I'm so sorry this happened, Craig." The man told him seriously, deciding the time was as good as any other to attempt a serious conversation with the boy. The sooner he made his feelings clear to the teen, the sooner he could get started at setting things right.

Craig, for his part, was completely thrown by his stepfather's implication. "It's not like this is your fault."

"Of course it is." The man told him seriously.

Earning him a very puzzled look from his stepson. That and a short round of coughs. Composing himself briefly, the teen glanced up at the man. "You didn't make me sick."

"No, I didn't." The man admitted freely. "But I did let it go way too far."

"It's not." Craig didn't have the slightest clue how to respond to the man.

Joey wasn't looking for a response, though. Not yet, at least. "You getting this sick without me realizing it is inexcusable. I swear to you, nothing like this is ever going to happen again."

Craig attempted to reason with the man. "It's not like I'm your"

"Kid?" Joey cut him off mid-sentence. "Responsibility? What, Craig? What of mine aren't you?"

"Either." The teen replied. "You don't have to worry about me, Joey. I know it doesn't always seem like it, but I can actually take care of myself."

"Stop it." The salesman replied shortly. Upon his stepson's startled look, the man quickly continued. "You're being ridiculous. You're fourteen years old. You don't take care of yourself."

"Joey." The teen once again cut in; the only protestation he could think of being the man's name. He was too focused on controlling his most recent need to clear the congestion in his lungs. God, it hurt.

His stepfather wasn't in the mood to hear the teen's winded protestation. Especially as he was watching the teen's futile attempts to control his pain. Craig had been in control of too much lately. The mere fact that they were having this conversation in a hospital room made it painfully clear that he had been far too reliant upon the teen's independence and self-sufficiency.

"No, Craig. I'm sorry that you've gotten so use to feeling like you're self-sufficient but it's not okay. Look at you. You're lying in a hospital bed with tubes running through you because you don't want to bug me? Because you think you can take care of yourself? It's ridiculous. And I let it happen. How long have you been feeling sick? Three days? Four?"

Shrugging slightly, the teen met his stepfather's gaze as he supplied his answer. "I don't know. A week. Maybe a little longer."

"A week?" The man repeated, the guilt he had been somewhat successfully suppressing surfacing immediately. "You've been sick for more than a week?"

"Not this sick." The teen attempted to ease his stepfather's obvious anger; a short bout of coughs adding little credence to his protestation.

Joey looked over at him sadly. Slammed his hands down on his thighs in frustration, he stood abruptly and did a quick pace across the room. "That's not the point."

Watching his stepfather's heated movements, the tired, pained teen could hardly take it for a second longer.

Realistically, he knew that Joey had a right to be upset. He wasn't exactly making life easier for the man. He'd been no help with Angie: putting out her grandmother by making her come get the girl and forcing Joey to pay Emma for watching her when he was supposed to be doing it. And he knew having to come out and sit in the hospital after a long day was not what the man had wanted to do that night. And he could only imagine what this little trip was costing.

Still, it wasn't like he'd meant to cause so much trouble. He'd tried to keep it together. He'd kept his mouth shut. Went to school. And he didn't complain even once. That was a major feat for him. It didn't seem fair that everything was getting ruined because of something that he had no control over.

Despite every effort to keep his self-pity under control, he just couldn't do it. He was sick. And tired. And he really, really hated hospitals. It just wasn't fair.

"Joey, I'm really sorry. Please, just don't." As the man haulted his pacing to stare at the teen, Craig immediately stopped begging.

Watching him intensely, Joey questioned the teen. "Don't what? What is it, Craig? What don't you want me to do?"

"I just." Looking up at his stepfather, he desperately attempted to stop himself from blurting it out. It wouldn't be fair. Joey had done so much for him. The man shouldn't have to listen to him beg. Even as the words slipped out of his mouth, he regretted them. "Please don't make me leave."

"Make you leave?" The stunned man repeated. "You think I'm going to throw you out because you're sick?"

Glancing down at his hands, the boy listened to his stepfather verbalize his greatest fear with as much composure as he could muster. He was concentating too intensely on not breaking down to respond.

Joey's continued questioning wasn't helping the cause. "Is that really what you think is going to happen? Craig?"


	8. Trying to Break Through

Forcing himself to look up at the man, Craig did his best to maintain his composure. Why did Joey have to ask that? Why that? "I just."

As the teen's voice faded to nothing, the silence announced Craig's true feelings more loudly than any words ever could.

Joey was dumbstruck. Drawing in a deep breath, he desperately attempted to come up with a suitable response. Something brilliant. Insightful. Well, helpful, at the least. How on earth he was supposed to fix this was beyond him.

Sighing, he ran a hand across his head. Turning away for a moment, the man frantically tried to come up with an appropriate response. Releasing the breath he had momentarily forgotten he was holding, he willed himself to turn back to the boy. He was supposed to be the adult here. He needed to figure out how to make this right.

Looking over at the teen, he almost started to laugh. What was wrong with him? How had he been so blind? He didn't need to be brilliant. Or insightful. That wasn't what his stepson needed from him at all.

Craig was a sick, scared kid. And it was about time the only parent he had left in the world started treating him like one.

Being certain to maintain eye contact for as long as possible, Joey slowly crossed the space between himself and the bed. Leaning over carefully, he drew the boy up and into a gentle hug.

Waiting for the teen to relax in his grip, the man was disappointed to realize that his desired response was not what the boy was going to provide. Turning his head slightly to avoid talking into the teen's neck, the man softly addressed his stepson. "That's not going to happen, Craig. The only place you're going is home. With me. Where you belong."

Even as the teen began coughing at the unplanned movement into his stepfather's arms, Craig started to pull away. Joey's continued grip was almost as unexpected as the initial hug itself. The day wasn't turning out at all like he ever would have imagined. Regaining control after a fairly short bout, the teen turned his head in an attempt to get a look at the man who was gently rubbing his back. "Joey."

Craig's questioning call of his name made his stepfather feel much better about his decision to coddle the teen. When he had first pulled the boy to his chest, he had been resolute that it was what he needed to do. But as the teen had grown increasingly tense in his grip, he had begun to question himself. The vulnerability evident in the boy's voice was actually reassuring. The protective wall the teen had built around himself was beginning to crumble away.

Gently shifting himself away from the child, Joey carefully moved his arms from the teen's back to his shoulders. Despite his desire to look the boy in the eye, he wasn't quite ready to let go of his stepson. Meeting the vulnerable, inquisitive gaze of the teen, Joey phrased his next words carefully. "Your home is with me now, Craig. Your place is with me. You need to understand that."

As the teen stared up at him quietly, the man gently pulled the boy back to his chest. Attempting to rub the slight cough out of the child's back, the slight relaxation he felt from Craig provided additional reassurance that he wasn't totally screwing things up with his stepson.

"Joey?" Craig's hesitant voice floated over to him.

Maintaining his gentle hold on the boy, Joey allowed a brief silence before replying simply. "Yeah?"

"Umm, can you let go of me?" Craig asked softly.

The question completely startled the man. Remaining stone still for a long moment, he found himself forgetting to breath. Pulling away slowly, he carefully lowered the teen back onto the pillow. Intensely studying Craig, brows creased in concern, the man's voice revealed his trepidation.

"What's wrong?"


	9. A Minor Obstacle

Turning away from his stepfather's concerned scrutinizing, Craig didn't immediately respond to the man's question.

Running his hand across the teen's face, Joey's concerned tripled as the boy failed to respond. "Craig?"

"I'm okay, Joey." The teen finally replied, still not looking at his stepfather.

Calmed slightly at the reassurance, the man leaned back an extra few centimeters before addressing his stepson again. "Then why…"

As his stepfather's voice drifted off, clearly displaying his inability to express his thoughts, Craig finally looked over at him. He softly mumbled to the man. "I'm not a little kid. I don't need you clinging to me."

Dumbfounded, Joey began to laugh. Watching his stepson's face turning increasingly hard, Joey knew that laughter was not the appropriate response. Craig was sick, tired and scared. He didn't need his stepfather laughing at his pride.

Attempting to draw in his chuckling, Joey couldn't help but continue to smile. Sure, he knew Craig was being serious. And that this wasn't exactly a funny situation. And, really, it wasn't as if the teen's show of independence was a positive sign. But looking down at the sick, pouty boy as he attempted to assert his self-reliance, the absurdity of the situation was comical.

Shifting away from the man, Craig couldn't help but feel more than a little bitter about his stepfather's treatment. Especially when the man took it upon himself to totally disregard Craig's request for independence and once again leaned over to pull him into yet another unwanted hug, triggering another short coughing bout.

"Sorry, kiddo." The man told him unapologetically. "'Fraid I'm not buying that argument. Like it or not, this little trip has proven how much you do need me."

Giving his stepson a final squeeze, Joey finally relented and laid him back on the bed. Looking down at the boy, he continued his diatribe. "Craig, you might not be a 'little kid' anymore but that doesn't mean you're an adult either. It isn't your job to protect me. Or to take care of your sister. Or even yourself, for that matter. It isn't up to you to keep our family running."

"I just..." Craig attempted to reason with the man. "I know it's your family, Joey. I just...I don't want you to think you have to, you know, take any extra. I don't expect you to. I just mean."

"You don't want to be any more of a burden on me than you already are?" The salesman finished the thoughts Craig couldn't quite put into words. "Letting you live in my house is all you think I should be doing for you."

Looking up at the man, Craig was briefly stunned. Joey had expressed his feelings to a tee. It wasn't as if he didn't know that what his stepfather was saying was 100 true. It was just so harsh to hear it spoken aloud.


	10. Baby Steps

Taking his stepson's head in his hands, Joey made sure to have the boy's undivided attention before addressing him again. "That's really what you believe, isn't it?"

"I just..." Futily attempted to pull out of his stepfather's grip, Craig willed himself not to break down.

The stress. The loneliness. Joey's questions. It was all too much. He just couldn't take it anymore.

As the single tear slide down the teen's cheek, his stepfather quickly brushed it away with his thumb before addressing him again. "I want you to listen to me, Craig."

Nodding his head despite the man's grip, Craig forced himself to meet the salesman's eyes.

"Are you listening?" Joey asked again. As the teen continued to nod, he pressed forward. "Because this is really important and I need to know you've heard me, okay?"

"Okay." Craig responded quietly.

When Joey didn't immediately continue, the boy's trepidation skyrocketed. "What is, Joey?"

"You could never, ever...Are you listening to me?" Joey very slowly continued. "You could never be a burden on me. Do you hear me? Never."

Looking into his stepfather's eyes, Craig found himself desperately wanting to believe the man. "You."

As the single word drifted into nothingness, the internal turmoil the boy was trying hard to repress tore at his stepfather's heart. He made sure to annunciate each word carefully as he spoke, wanting the boy to understand how serious he was about what he was saying. "You are not a burden. Do you understand that?"

Tears began to flow down the teen's cheeks as his stepfather continued to force him to hold his gaze. When the teen finally forced his head out of the man's grip to look away, Joey allowed it.

Looking over to the side of the room, staring at the empty wall, Craig was glad to have anything to focus on other than the man hovering over him. He needed to pull himself together and Joey was definitely not helping the cause. Locking onto the faded stripped pattern of the wallpaper, the boy was finally beginning to regain some composure. That is, until his stepfather once again pulled the unwilling teen into his arms.

Allowing himself to be pulled up once more, Craig vaguely began to wonder when Joey had become such a touchy-feely guy. Not that the father wasn't affectionate with Angie. Or with any of the women in his life. Or even with his friends for that matter. It just wasn't how the man usually acted with his teenage stepson.

Joey, however, was hardly focused on his past treatment of the teen. He was much more concerned with the future. The immediate future to be exact. As he continued to hold his stepson close, he racked his brain in an attempt to come up with a game plan. He had figured out the reassuring words and hugs. Surprisingly, that part had come fairly easily. It was figuring out what to do to make things better for Craig from here on in that he _really_ had no idea about.


	11. Making Plans

Despite his half-hearted attempts to push away from the man, Craig wasn't really that thrown when Joey continued to hold him close. By this point the teen had come to understand that hospital trips bring the cuddler out in his otherwise generally non-obtrusive guardian.

And, on top of not being that surprised by this point, the boy quickly realized that he wasn't all that offended by it anymore. After all, he was sick. That alone should give him a pass on having to keep up his tough exterior. For a couple of minutes at the very least. And the mere fact that he had managed to play it cool for so many days should count for something.

He was just so tired. And sore. And lonely. Who could really blame him for giving in to his oh-so-persistent guardian's insistence on holding him? Closing his eyes against the man's shoulder, he desperately attempted to keep control over both his haggering cough and surfacing tears. If he could just keep them both in check for a few minutes longer, maybe he would finally be able to relax…

As the teen began to sag against his shoulder, Joey cautiously shifted his head in an attempt to check the boy's breathing. He was more than a little happy to note that the change in the youth's posture was not due to any medical complication, but to his eyes drooping. A few seconds later, he lowered the sleeping teen onto the bed. Giving the boy one last look, he turned quickly and headed for the door He had things to take care of and wanted to be sure he was back before Craig woke up to an empty room.

* * *

Joey impatiently drummed his fingers along his jeans as he attempted to wait politely as the security officer slowly reviewed the map showing the way to the elevators with the extremely overwhelmed grandmother for the third time. It wasn't like he really was in that big of a hurry. After all, Craig was probably sound asleep. Lord knows he needed to be. And there really wasn't any urgent reason that Joey needed to get back to the teen's room. It had just taken Joey longer than he had planned and he was anxious to get back to the teen before he awoke alone. Unfortunately, at the rate things were going, that just wasn't going to happen.

* * *

Lazily stretching his achy back, Craig casually rolled onto his side in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. But as the IV in his hand pulled slightly at the movement, the youth became incredibly uncomfortable. After all, how could he feel anything but uncomfortable once he came to the realization that he was still in the hospital? Reluctantly prying his eyes open, he surprised himself with the disappointment he felt upon realizing that Joey was nowhere to be found.

He really must be losing it. He had wanted the man to leave him alone. Now that he had, Craig should feel happy. So what the heck was wrong with him?

Looking out through the open doorway, he couldn't help but dwell on where his guardian had disappeared to.

* * *

Finally making his way back to the boy's room, Joey was relieved to see the teen resting quietly. A smile lit the man's face at the sight. Then he noticed the half-empty glass of water on the bedside tray. The salesman sighed ever so slightly at the sight. Obviously Craig had been awake while he was alone. He had really hoped that wouldn't happen.

Since there was no use crying over spilt milk, Joey quickly and quietly went about business, hoping to at least accomplish this part of his mission before the teen awoke again.


End file.
